Date: Tue, 20 Jun 2000 23:20:37 BST
From: Jack Rowan
Subject: Jamie and Sam
JAMIE AND SAM
This story is fiction. No one in it exists.
The Story of Jamie and Sam is copyright. Copy it for your own use if
you wish, archive it if you wish, make it available through the web if
you wish, but please credit it to Jack Rowan, and don't change it.
And don't publish it for profit, or charge for accessing it.
Comments will be very gratefully received by Jack_Rowan@hotmail.com
======================================================================
This one is for Jess.
======================================================================
THE STORY OF JAMIE AND SAM
--------------------------
It was, I suppose, a little surprising that we hadn't met there
before.
But there he was. My first thought: Who's the old cove with the
raincoat? I smiled to myself. The other old cove with the raincoat;
although at least I wasn't wearing that hat. Nor did I need the
stick, not today, not in this brisk, bright spring morning.
He was looking casually at a monument, one even more garish and absurd
than most of the others. As my feet crunched on the path, he turned;
and then I knew him.
"Jamie...?"
His eyes flicked at me. I knew him by his eyes, still blue, but
watery in the crisp air.
"Good god, it's Sam. Oh my god alive, it's actually you..."
"Jamie, man..."
We stood frozen, then both spoke at once.
"I meant to..."
"...I was always going to..."
"But, well, Anna, you know. Somehow..."
"Don't explain. That's just how things were."
"You're looking very well, Sam. You've kept your hair."
"So've you, Jamie. Everything else in working order?"
He gave his giggle. That wonderful, heart-breaking giggle, a bit
harsher now, but still the same. Suddenly, my heart warmed. It was
good to see him.
"Walk with me to that bench, Sam."
He took my arm. I was surprised; an odd gesture for two elderly
Englishmen, but he was always like that. We fell easily into step.
"What brings you to this god-forsaken place?" I said. "I hate them,
cemetaries."
"They're all here, Sam," he said. His voice was wistful, and I could
tell it was by now an old sorrow. "All of them."
"Who, Jamie?"
"All of them. Anna; and the boys. All of them."
"Dear god." I pressed his arm, appalled. "What - what happened?"
He paused.
"Not yet, man. Not just yet."
"Adrian's here as well," I said, wanting to be beside him.
"That lovely man? Him too?"
I said nothing. We reached the bench and for a while sat in silence.
"Funny," said Jamie. "I was thinking the other day of that train..."
"So was I." We looked at each other, and smiled.
=====
The train, crammed with evacuees, kids, puffed out of Barnford that
autumn day in 1939. In the chaos I was separated from my brother and
herded into a compartment with a dozen other boys. I had never been
squashed together with so many people before, so many gentiles before.
I was ten. It was the first time I had left my mother, the first time
I had even conceived it possible to leave her, but she had stood there
weeping on the platform, shrinking, as the train slipped away.
And now here I was, with my little case, my gas mask. And round my
neck a tag with my name: Samuel Moskowitz. And my mother had added,
in her careful board-school hand: He must not eat pork.
The others crushed me, pushing and jeering, most of them much older
than I was. I slunk to a corner and squeezed in next to another boy
my size.
When I turned to him, I was amazed. My mouth fell open. Because in
those days, Jamie Richards was so beautiful, it stopped your heart.
His blue eyes stared at me curiously, his exquisite face was crowned
by a shock of blond hair, and then he smiled.
"Hello," he said. "What's your name?"
"Sam. I've lost my brother." I was on the verge of tears.
"Doesn't matter. We're all going to the same place. You'll see him
at the other end."
His voice was middle-class, confident, authoritative, and I was at
once reassured and intimidated.
"Oh."
"Don't worry. You'll be all right." He smiled at me. "I'm Jamie.
Have you got any cigarette cards?"
Of course I had. Every boy had in those days. I hauled them out, and
we compared, but we had nothing worth swapping.
"Where're you from?" he asked.
"Barnford."
"But - Well, why have you got a name like M-Moskowitz?" He read it
carefully. His voice rang out loudly in a sudden quiet in the
compartment.
"Because he's a kike," said an older boy opposite, nastily.
"What's that?"
"A Jew. He's a Jew. My dad says it's all their fault that there's a
war. All their fault. The Jews."
"That's stupid," said Jamie.
"He's a kike!"
"He's my friend! You sound like bloody Hitler, you do!"
This was a signal for a general screaming match and then a ruckus.
Jamie grabbed my hand and we struggled out into the corridor. The
door slid shut with a bang, and we were alone with the rhythmic noise
of the train.
I was breathing heavily now, and crying.
"Hey, don't mind them," said Jamie. "I know. Come with me."
He led the way along the corridor. I had never been in a train, and
the noise and motion confused me. He dragged me into the toilet,
banged the door and locked it. For the moment we were safe.
I was still crying, and I was amazed when he hugged me. He was always
a very huggy person.
"Come on now, forget those sods. They don't know anything."
"I didn't make the war!" I sobbed, absurdly.
"Of course you didn't. Hitler did, everyone knows that," he told me.
Then, at a loss to know what to do to stop my tears, he told me his
great secret. "Hey, do you want to try something really nice?"
I sniffed, interested.
"What?"
"Look."
He undid the flies of his shorts, fiddled with his underpants, and
produced his tiny thing. I was thunderstruck. In my household, a
traditional and religious one, there were certain things which were
inconceivable, and this was one of them. I stared in horror, and
fascination. I had never seen another boy's penis before.
"Oh, Jamie! You shouldn't do that!"
He giggled. The first time, that unbelievable giggle, and something
turned over inside me.
"Look."
He started to rub it, and to my astonishment, it enlarged, grew stiff.
It was as large as a finger.
"You try!"
"I daren't."
"Go on! I know you can. A Jew is as brave as anyone! My dad says
Jews must be the bravest people in the world, what with the Nazis and
everything."
So, of course, I did. Jamie stared in fascination at the mark of the
bris on me.
"It's different! It's not the same as mine!"
I hadn't any reason to suppose it would be. I had no experience in
the field.
"Can I touch it?"
"All - right."
I was terrified. But when he did, the feeling was simply astonishing,
a revelation, and in an instant I was changed. It was literally true
that after that, things were never the same again.
"See? Yours gets big too. Go on. Touch mine."
I couldn't not. My mind was on fire. I touched him, and the
fireworks shot up again. We masturbated each other, revelling in the
feelings, smiling daftly at each other.
"Oh, gosh, Jamie, this is wonderful..."
"You can do it any time. I do it in bed. But don't tell anyone."
"Tell? Of course not!"
I was getting a bit sore, and we stopped. Suddenly, he hugged me
again, and our penises touched. I almost collapsed with the feeling.
"Jamie?"
"Yes?"
I looked at him very seriously.
"Don't leave me. Stay with me."
He giggled again.
"Of course I will. Till the end of the line. Right to the end."
He was smiling, and I felt suddenly as if the world was good, and
everything would be all right.
=====
"I wonder what would have happened if we'd stuck together?"
"I don't know, Jamie," I said, suddenly filled with sorrow. "I just
don't know."
Because, of course, we hadn't. At the station we were separated and
billeted in different villages. I didn't dare to ask for him, feeling
that what we had shared was so deeply private that I couldn't even
hint at it. But I never forgot him.
It was eleven years before we met again.
=====
Germany, 1950. I was a national serviceman.
I could have got an exemption, because I was a bright lad, with a
place waiting for me at Manchester University. My mother tried to
persuade me, but my brother was adamant.
"Things are different now. Every Jew must learn to fight."
"A Jew is not a soldier!" wailed my mother.
"They are fighting now, in Israel. What happened in Germany - never
again. We must never be taken by surprise again."
"He's only a boy, Toby, he's just a child! Isn't it enough that they
took you..."
"Everyone must learn."
He was as good as his word. He fell in Sinai, in 1956.
My father left the decision to me. I went. I think he was proud of
me, just a little.
Anyhow, that day the others decided it was time to take me into town
and introduce me to drink. I was a studious boy, the only Jew in our
platoon, the only middle-class boy. The others adopted me as a kind
of mascot, protected me and encouraged me. Our sergeant had been at
the liberation of Belsen, and appointed himself as my guardian. No
one, he said, was going to touch our Jewboy, and that was that.
I hid from them the other difference, which I had felt all through my
teens, and with increasing horror and strength.
We had a twelve-hour leave. Somehow we comandeered a truck and we
found ourselves in an uproarious bar, crammed with other servicemen,
most of them totally drunk. These, remember, were kids, away from
home and the stifling atmosphere of post-war Britain for the first
time.
My mates pushed me to the bar. I forced myself past another soldier,
and then realised.
It was Jamie. I couldn't mistake him. The same eyes, the same shock
of hair...
He looked at me, and yelled.
"Sam!"
It's astonishing after all that time, but we fell into each others'
arms.
"Jamie! What are you doing here?"
"What do you think!" he shouted over the din. "It's my birthday! I'm
twenty-one today!"
His mates started a chorus. "Twenty-one today, twenty-one today..."
I looked round, but my mates had disappeared in the crush.
"What the hell have you been doing?"
"School and all that..." Suddenly I didn't know what to say to him.
He was utterly stunning, still the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
The years had filled him out, given him a broad chest, firm and strong
arms. He was everything I had been dreaming of.
He was fairly tipsy.
"Hey, have a drink, have a drink, have some of this!"
"What is it?"
"Drambuie. Come on. Try."
He handed me his glass, and I drank. The sticky liquid slid down my
throat, and I spluttered. I had never touched anything like this
before, and it went straight to my head. In seconds I felt bright,
alive and on top of everything.
He looked at me, his eyes twinkling.
"I don't know why," he said, "But I am just so glad you are here!"
He flung an arm round my shoulders.
"Come on. Let's... let's go for a walk."
It was such a bizarre suggestion in these surroundings that I laughed,
coughing round the drink, and he pounded my back. Then he grabbed my
hand and pulled me through the crowd, out through the door.
"I've so wanted to see you," he said as we blundered out into the
chill north German night. "I've... dreamed of seeing you."
"Me too," I said, smiling at him, feeling light and omnipotent.
We walked pointlessly along the road.
"Where did you go to school?" he asked.
"Barnford Grammar. And you?"
He named a major public school. (Remember, in Britain a public school
is actually a private school, the preserve of the elite.)
"Really? You could have been an officer."
"Not bloody likely. I hate all this militaristic shit. Besides, I'm
going to be a lawyer. This is my chance to see things from the
bottom."
I felt unaccountably annoyed.
"Slumming it?"
He stared at me.
"And you're not?"
"Touche. My Zionist brother. All Jews must learn to fight."
"He's right. When I think... Oh, Sam, all those people! That could
have been you. I thought that all the time..."
Unable to bear it, I grabbed him and hugged, tight.
"Look," he said. "That's our truck. Come on. Get in."
"They might come back!"
"Not a chance. They'll get pissed and go to a whorehouse. Get in."
I climbed over the tailgate and he followed me. Inside it was almost
dark, and quiet. The sound of roistering servicemen, the roar of
motorcycles and trucks seemed far away. We sat on a pile of coats and
hugged.
"Do you remember - that time on the train?"
"Yes," I whispered.
I don't know how, but it seemed that in seconds we were naked, rolling
over each other, and hard, hard as steel.
He giggled, and I loved him.
"Sam!" he said. "This is what we did at school. I'm - I'm going to
suck your cock."
"Oh god, Jamie! Oh, yes!"
It was like coming home, it was like liberation, it was like the
beginning of life. His mouth slid over me and down my shaft, slickly,
exquisitely. I cried aloud, and he put a hand over my mouth, moving
slowly up and down me, as he licked and caressed.
I had dreamed and longed, and I had hated myself and what I was sure I
was growing into. But he overwhelmed me. After that day, I never had
any doubts again.
All too soon I felt the end approach, and then I shot, tumultuously,
as he swallowed and swallowed.
He looked down at me.
"I've wanted to do that for eleven years."
"I've never..."
"You don't have to."
"Of course I do, you silly sod. Come on now. Lie down."
I was suddenly commanding, and he obeyed me. More used to the gloom
now, I grasped his cock and stared at it, uncircumcised. It was
momentous. I licked him, gently, and was surprised at how sweet he
tasted. He moaned.
"Oh, yes, Sam, do it!"
I took a deep breath, and took him in my mouth. Magically, it all
seemed as natural as food and drink, easy and delightful. He slid to
the back of my mouth and down my throat without any trouble, a trick I
have had ever since, and he gasped in astonishment.
"Sam! That's - incredible!"
I moved over him, slowly and deliberately, savouring his taste, his
firmness, from my lips down to my throat in long movements. And then
faster, harder, and then my mouth was flooded with him, and he
screamed.
"Oh god, Sam, kiss me, please..."
I did, the first time I had kissed anyone in this way, and it was
almost the best thing we did.
We collapsed onto the coats, and in moments we were asleep in each
others' arms.
Hours later I was awoken by Jamie shaking me, hard.
"Wake up, for god's sake wake up, Sam! They're coming back!"
We could hear them in the distance, coming nearer, exchanging bawdy
shouts and jokes. I looked at him in horror and threw myself into my
clothes. Remember, this was not just potential disgrace; this was a
court-martial and a long period in jail we were looking at.
"Out! Oh Sam, out, quick!"
I threw myself over the tailgate, and I could just hear Jamie whisper
"God bless!" as I scrambled into the morning twilight.
=====
"Then there was Germany," he said.
"It was wonderful." I smiled at him, and it was a beautiful moment.
"You gave me the best head I have ever had, before or since," he said.
"God! It was dreadful when you had to go like that. I was so, so in
love with you."
"I looked for you," I said. "But your people had moved from Barnford.
There are so many people called 'Richards' in the world."
"There aren't many Moskowitzes," he said.
I waited for his explanation.
"My parents found out. They found out that I was - queer."
"Oh, Jamie."
"They thought for some reason they would send me overseas, and that
would do the trick. They sent me to Australia for three years. Then
they allowed me back, but made me swear - swear, no more men. So I
tried. You know how much I tried. And I went to University and I
went into the law."
All this was an old story, of course, and I knew it well. But it
seemed we had embarked on a resume of our lives, and I liked it. The
spring sunshine was pleasantly warm, and we relaxed into the bench.
Jamie removed his hat; the hair was white now, but still the same
shock, and it moved me as it always had. I made my next contribution.
"I had men. Many men. My people wanted me to be a doctor, but I
couldn't face it. I drifted for a while. Then I started to work for
a cousin of mine. He was in entertainment management. Then music,
records. Well, you know."
He giggled.
"That was quite an occasion."
=====
1963, and Britain - well, London - was at last coming out of the
monastic austerity of the post-war period. Things were on the move.
A new generation was coming into play, full of excitement and
optimism. Everything we wanted was starting to happen; we felt there
was nothing we couldn't do, and things would only ever get better and
better. My life had moved into its great central summery prairie.
Philip Larkin may just have been discovering sex, but I was well ahead
of him. Boys, men - London in the sixties was a paradise, an orchard
of delights, and I gorged. I was thirty-four.
They were called - what was it? The Liverpool Lads, that was it,
though they were more Streatham than Merseyside, in fact. They were
dreadful, not that it mattered much. I was their manager. I was also
fucking two of them.
That day we were meeting a record company, ASL. I was looking for a
contract for them, and ASL wanted to see the goods. There they were,
the two suits, bland, cynical and plump. And the lawyer.
The lawyer was Jamie.
The moment I came into the room I knew him. He'd scarcely changed; I
suppose I hadn't much, either.
He took one look at me and dropped his papers on the table.
"Sam."
He stared at me, and I at him, and it seemed as if minutes passed.
Then he turned to his colleagues.
"I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse us."
And we left them, my pimply-faced property and his pair of clones.
Out in the corridor he grabbed me, kissed me madly.
"Come on!" he shouted, and seized me by the hand. Then we were
hurtling down the stairs, screaming and shouting like kids, bawling
and yelling, through the foyer, out into the sunlight. "Come with me!
Come on!"
"But... They'll wonder..."
"Stuff them!" He grabbed my face in his two hands. "Do you honestly
think they matter a tuppenny damn compared to meeting you!"
I laughed aloud.
"Let's... let's get a drink, for god's sake!" He hauled me, laughing,
into a nearby pub and ordered us a couple of beers.
"Thank god you didn't get Drambuie!"
"Eugh! That stuff! Thank heavens we're beyond that!"
We sat there for hours, for literally hours, scarcely drinking,
drowning each other in a cataract of talk, on and on, shouting,
joking, laughing. It was the first time we had ever spoken more than
a few sentences, and we intoxicated each other.
Finally, we ran down, and sat staring at each other, suddenly bashful.
"Jamie," I said. "My group..."
"Oh, sod them. Are they any good?"
I laughed.
"They're crap. Completely crap. But pretty."
"Yeah, the girls'll love them. Here. Have you got the papers?"
I had. He unfolded them, signed. I signed too.
"So much for them. And now, Sam Moskowitz, I'm going to fuck - your -
arse."
I smiled.
"I thought you'd never ask."
His flat was bright and modern, but he gave me no chance to look at
it, hauling me into his bedroom and tearing my clothes. I did the
same to him.
"Suck me! I've dreamed of it, I've dreamed for years of your mouth,
suck me, Sam!"
I threw him on the bed, astonished at myself; usually I was a careful
and methodical lover; and jumped on him, took him into my throat in
one gulp; and he screamed my name. I worked on him frantically,
bringing him to the edge in seconds, and then hauled him back again
and again, as he moaned and thrashed.
"Now, Jamie! Now! Fuck me!"
He flung himself on the bedside cupboard and produced a bottle of baby
oil. I knelt and grabbed him.
"But - be careful. I don't get fucked much."
He stared at me with mad eyes.
"I've never fucked any man before. Sam, I haven't been with a man
since - since you in Germany."
We were both on the brink of tears.
"I'm glad," I said at last. "Oh, Jamie, I'm so glad." I rolled onto
my back. "Come on. Fuck me. I'm all yours. I've always been
yours..."
He leant over me, and I felt him against me. Then a brief pang, and
he was in.
"Come on," I said, smiling up at him. "Deeper. Get into me, Jamie."
Slowly, he slid the length of him into me. He wasn't enormous, but as
his body lay on mine, firmly pressed against me, I felt a completion I
had never achieved with the uncounted others who had preceded him, and
I found myself weeping.
"Fuck me, Jamie. Fuck me hard."
He started to move in and out, slowly, full length, and his body was
shaking. Then, suddenly, he attacked me furiously, plunging and
bucking, shouting my name. Amazed, I found he was hurting me, and I
loved it. I grabbed him, kissed him frantically as he surged in and out
of my body, possessing me, and then, it seemed in no time at all, I
could feel him come inside me, screaming, and I erupted between us as
we pressed against each other.
He held me tightly for a long time, and I realised he was crying. I
stroked his hair as he released his loss.
"Oh, Sam, it's been so long..."
"But now we're together."
"No. No. Tonight I get the plane - to the States."
I felt the darkness, the emptiness creep up on me again.
"How long for?"
"I don't know. Maybe a year."
I could feel his sobs. And suddenly it was my turn to be strong.
"We've got today. You'll come back. Jamie... Our time will come."
I held him till his shaking stopped.
"Sam..."
"Yes, my love."
"I've never been fucked. Please. Please, Sam."
I kissed him. "Just try and stop me."
I rolled him onto his front and spread his legs. His hole was small
and tight, like a boy's, completely untouched. I licked him, round
his balls, took them in my mouth briefly. Then I was onto his hole,
licking and pressing. My tongue entered him, and he started to shake
again. I rimmed him for a long time, and thoroughly, before I pushed
a finger into him.
"Okay?"
"God, yes, Sam, oh god yes..."
I moved round him, found his prostate, and again his body started to
shake.
"Oh, put it in me, do it now, Sam, just do it!"
I rolled him onto his side, and gently, so gently, pressed into him.
"Shit! God, that hurts! Oh..."
I held still, but didn't withdraw. He was warm and incredibly tight,
his muscle pressing like a rubber band. My hand went to his cock and
caressed him slowly, and slowly he responded.
"Now..."
I moved slowly in.
"Oh shit oh shit oh god Sam, don't stop, fuck, that hurts, don't
stop..."
The sensation overwhelmed him, and I started to fuck him slowly. This
couldn't last, I was too on edge, it was far too much. I jacked him
hard, and fucked him faster, and almost before I knew it, we were both
coming, screaming and coming.
"God almighty, Sam, is it like that every time?"
"You'll get used to it."
"Incredible." He giggled. "I love you, Sam."
"I love you, Jamie. There's never been anyone but you. Never."
I held him in my arms, and just as before, so many years before, we
went quietly to sleep, the afternoon sun on our bodies.
And just as before, he woke with a start.
"Oh, shit, Sam, look at the time. Come on, I've got to go!"
I pulled myself from the bed, seeing him throw his clothes on once
again.
"Thank god I packed before. Sam. Come with me to the airport."
"Try and stop me."
He smiled at me. I loved him.
"Call a taxi, I'll get my things together."
And a few minutes later we were on the road.
"Sam. Give me your address. Here."
I wrote, and he thrust the paper into the side of his bag.
Then we were rushing through the airport. At the barrier he stopped
me.
"I can't bear hanging around. Kiss me."
And so we kissed in the airport terminal, an outrageous thing to do
in those days. I could see tears in his eyes.
"Now, go, Sam. Just go. I'll write. I'll write every day..."
But he never did.
=====
"Why didn't you write?"
I knew the answer, of course. But we were doing this. I didn't know
why, but it seemed to be the time for it.
"The airline lost my bags. I didn't know your address. I tried, god,
I tried. I tried the phone book, but you weren't in it. I suppose
you were ex-directory. I tried ASL, but as you know, they went bust
right then, I was out of a job. I had to find work in the States, I
didn't have enough money to come home even."
"I sat in London and wondered what the hell had happened. I imagined
anything, that you'd found someone else, that you were dead, I just
didn't know."
"I cursed myself for where I'd put that note. If I'd just put it in
my pocket! I sat in that ghastly hotel and screamed and cursed for
hours on end."
"I went off the rails. The bottle. The needle. It's easy to get in
my work. I hit it hard. The next two or three years - I don't
remember very well."
Suddenly I felt very old.
"I managed to get another job," said Jamie. "Just clerking, really.
A British law degree doesn't go far in the States, not when you're at
the bottom of the heap."
"Finally I got over it, or thought I did. I dried myself out and
started again. Jamie, I got hard. I changed my name. I forced you
out of my mind. I bit and I fought, and I found I was good at that.
I became some kind of success."
Jamie paused.
"I met Anna."
We were grownups. And this wasn't the time to hold back, I could
tell.
"Why did you do that? I - well, I've never understood..."
"I was alone. Everything was in ruins. And she cared, Sam, she
really cared, and that meant a lot."
"But for god's sake, Jamie, you married her!"
"Yes. It seemed - it seemed like the right thing to do."
"Did you love her?"
"Did I? I don't know. She was a friend. The kids came along, and
she became more than that, a colleague in the kids, the most important
job there is. And... I became accustomed to her, I suppose. You
could say that I loved her in some kind of way."
"A letter came in the end."
"Yes. We were back in London by then. I saw your name and picture in
the newspaper. Sam Moss, up-and-coming media executive. I wrote to
Chiltern TV."
"Just a note. Saying you had got married, and wishing me all the
best. Not even a return address, for god's sake, Jamie! Not even
that!"
"I... didn't want to embarrass you."
"Embarrass me! You damn nearly killed me! I fell off the waggon,
hard."
"But you met Adrian."
"Yes."
"I met Anna, you met Adrian. Forgive me, Sam."
I looked at him for a long, long time, and sighed.
"There's nothing to forgive, man. We both did what we could, we did
what we had to. To survive."
"What happened about Adrian?"
"He found me wrecked in some boozer. God knows why, he took to me. I
was about forty by then and he was only twenty-seven. And you saw
him, Sam. He was kind, and caring, and funny. And beautiful."
"Yes. He was a very beautiful boy."
"He was never as beautiful as you. No one was ever that."
We smiled at each other, and he was still very, very lovely.
"What happened?"
"We made a life together, and gradually he made me into a human being
again. When we all met in Spain, we had been together for three
years, and it just got better and better. We weren't exclusive, or at
any rate, he wasn't. But he always came back. Always, always. I
loved him, Jamie."
"Yes." He accepted it. "How did it end? Can you tell me?"
"Come and see."
He fell in step beside me, as I returned to the place.
"He got the plague. He got it, Jamie..."
"Oh, Sam."
"In and out of hospital, on and on, sometimes better, sometimes worse,
but always, down, down. In the end - well, it was frightful, Jamie.
I won't go on. But it is the most dreadful thing, like something
alien, from out of the world. I sat by his bed and watched it all.
And then, finally - it was over."
We came to the place, his awful, disgusting monument.
"The moment he was dead, they appeared, his relatives. For years
they'd treated him like dirt, and now there they were. I wasn't even
allowed to go to the funeral. And then they put this heap of shit on
top of him."
Jamie held me as we stared at it, the ghastly statue of the Virgin and
the inscription: "Sacred to the memory of Adrian Donaghue, born 1942,
who paid the penalty of sin, 1985. Merciful God forgive him."
"Unspeakable!" said Jamie, his voice shaking with fury.
"Fifteen years, and this was how it ended. But I came here, and I
mourned in my way. I said Kaddish for him, and be damned with them."
We walked away from the thing, back to our bench.
"He was still so alive, when we met that time in Ibiza."
"God, Jamie, must we go over that as well?"
"Let's, Sam. Let's get it out of the way."
=====
It was 1974, and Adrian had persuaded me to go with him to Ibiza.
I was forty-five, and I went, really because I realised that he didn't
have to invite me. He could have gone by himself, and had a riotous
time, but he chose to take me too. He was thirty-one.
"Okay," I said, "We'll go. But - a straight hotel. Can you bear it?
I can't face the glory-holes in the loos and all that..."
He laughed, and agreed.
"You can go out on the town," I said, "I won't mind. Just don't
expect me to come along."
"We'll see, dear," he said, archly. But when it came to it, he stuck
to me like glue. I was touched, even embarrassed.
When we had been there about ten days, we came down to breakfast, and
there he was. There they were: Jamie, Anna, and their three boys.
"My god, it's him."
"Who?"
"Jamie."
He knew the story, of course. He knew everything about me. "Where?"
"The family, over there."
"So that's him. Sam, he's old."
"He's the same age as me."
"He's old."
I knew what he meant. Jamie had filled out, and not well. You could
say he had a belly. His marvellous hair was grey, and he had a sad,
moth-eaten moustache. Suddenly I felt infinitely sorry for him.
"Adrian, I'll have to go and speak to him."
"Of course you must, dear. Go on, now."
"Come with me."
"No, I don't think so."
"Please, Adrian. I need you. While... that woman's there, I need
you."
He looked at me.
"Okay. Of course I will. But... well, Sam, I'm not sure I like him
much."
"You're not jealous?"
"Don't be stupid. He dumped you. Anyone who dumps Sam Moss is a shit
in my book."
We smiled at each other. But he wasn't joking.
"Jamie."
He turned at my voice.
"Oh my god. Oh my god, it's you."
He stared at me. I stared at him.
"Hey, honey? Aren't you going to introduce us?" Anna's voice was
melodious and American.
"Yes, dear, this is Sam Moskowitz, er, Moss. My wife, Anna. And this
is?"
"Adrian Donaghue. Good to meet you at last."
Sam looked at him strangely.
"You guys old friends?"
I found to my surprise that I didn't dislike her. The table swung
into focus. Anna, and the three boys - all, every one, an exact copy
of Jamie. The oldest, maybe eight or nine, took me straight back to
that train. I felt the ground shifting, as if I was going to faint.
"Excuse me." I took a seat. "Yes," I stammered, "I've known him for
- for thirty-five years. When I see this lad - well, it's quite a
shock."
Anna laughed.
"Yeah, I've seen the photos. It's amazing. Honey, how come you
didn't tell me about Sam before?"
"It's a long story."
"Well, I'm going to take the kids, and you guys can chew the fat for a
bit."
There was a brief scurry as she gathered up the boys, and they were
gone. The oldest, who she called Anthony, risked a shy smile at me as
they left.
"Jamie."
"Sam."
We looked at each other, and it was strange. Eleven years since he
had left me weeping by that barrier, and now, before my eyes, he was a
father.
"What the fuck happened, Jamie?"
He told me. We were both crying in the end.
"And now... Here we are." He made a gesture of resignation, and once
again I felt desperately sorry for him.
"You didn't tell her about me, Jamie? You didn't tell Anna?"
"Where's the point." He looked beaten. "Thank god - thank god you've
got Adrian at least."
"Funny," said Adrian. "I always thought when I met you that I'd want
to smack you in the mouth for what you did to Sam. Now - now I just
want to hug you."
And he did. Adrian was like that. Like Jamie.
We talked for a long while. But it wasn't happening. I couldn't
relate this low-key, midddle-aged lawyer to the golden young man I had
left at Heathrow. Whatever had happened in between and whatever I
had felt, Jamie was the one who had suffered more, and the bitter
words fell away, unspoken. But the other words, the ones that would
lift the sadness, the ones which would span the years as we had done
before, they wouldn't come either. Things had changed.
Then Anna reappeared, with the kids in tow.
"Okay, anyone for the beach?"
Suddenly, I couldn't bear it.
"Thanks Anna, I think I'll stay here. I don't feel too good, to be
honest - touch of jippy tummy."
She laughed. "Okay, we'll see you later. Gives me a chance to get
the gossip!"
They all left, Sam waving over his shoulder and trudging off.
Adrian sighed.
"That, dear, is the saddest story I've ever heard."
"Yes. Thanks for being there."
"I love you so much, Sam Moskowitz."
He almost never used that name, but at that moment it was right.
"Something... something always gets between us. I don't understand."
"Not this time."
"This time too. Only this time it's different. It's not the same."
I paused. "I wish I hadn't met him today."
"Let's go upstairs and have sex. Let's stay in bed all day. Let me
ravish you."
I laughed. But that's just what he did.
When we came down for supper, Jamie wasn't there, and nor were the
kids. Just Anna.
"Sam, I've sent him out with the kids. I want to talk to you. And
Adrian?"
"Yes?"
She made a gesture of exasperation.
"Just go out, will you? Go and pick someone up, or whatever you
do..."
Adrian bowed ironically, and left us.
"Anna, that was unconscionable."
"Oh, Sam, I could say sorry, but what's the point." She lit a
cigarette. I had given up the year before, and it made me feel sick.
"Jamie told me all about it," she went on. "All about you. What you
did."
"Anna..."
"Sam, I'm really not interested in what you have to say." She was, I
realised, more than a bit drunk. "I can't handle it, Sam. I just
cannot. I can't have you round him, thinking about him that way. I
can't have you looking at my kids, thinking how they look like Jamie,
thinking about fondling them..."
"What!"
"I haven't finished. I want you out of Jamie's life, I want you out
of my life and I want you to stay away from my kids. Hear me?"
"Anna, for god's sake. You're his wife. You're the mother of his
kids. Can you honestly believe that... It was all so long ago."
"That's just it. What we do together... you did it first. He was
yours first..." She was crying now, but I didn't dare touch her.
"Get the fuck out of here! Just go!"
"I can't. The plane goes on Friday."
"Then stay away from us!"
"This is all so unnecessary."
"I have the right! Haven't I? I'm his wife, goddamit, I have the
right!"
"You have the right." I sighed.
"Just don't get anywhere near us. And that goes for your... catamite
too."
"What has Adrian done to you?"
"I... just can't bear to think of you still doing things with him.
Disgusting things. Things you did with Jamie before..."
"There's nothing disgusting about it."
"If you can't even see how vile it is, there's no hope for you.
Faggot! Kike! Get - out - of - my - life!"
I stood.
"Goodbye, Anna."
I left her. And we didn't see Jamie again.
======
"We came back from that holiday," said Jamie, "And somehow everything
was changed. Anna was different. She never really trusted me again."
"Jamie, I'm sorry."
"I tried everything. I did everything she wanted. But really, our
marriage ended there. I was so sorry for her. She suffered."
"So did you. You looked... you looked dreadful then. You're twenty-
five years older now, but you look a jolly sight better."
He giggled.
"We stayed together for the kids. It's not as daft as it sounds. We
stayed together for as long as we could. We only gave it up when
Andrew was fifteen. Then we divorced."
"I can't say how sorry I am."
"It wasn't your fault. It just happened. Just like... like the other
thing."
I paused for a minute or more.
"Can you tell me now?"
"Oh, Sam, it'll be a relief. It was a car crash. They were all
three in it. And Anthony's wife. They collided with a tanker.
Killed instantly, we were told. Come on. My turn. I'll show you."
I fell in beside him, and we walked.
"Anna couldn't take it. I met her at the funeral. It was dreadful
beyond any description. And a year later, she joined them. A
handful of pills..."
It was a simple granite slab, with their names. Anthony, 23. His
wife, Barbara, 22. Arthur, 21. Andrew, 19. I thought of the lovely
fair-haired boys in the hotel, and wept. And under: Their mother,
Anna, 58. 1990. Nine years ago.
"Why didn't you call, old friend?"
"How could I? All I had to offer was grief and pain. I thought many
times of - giving up myself."
He looked at me.
"It's good to meet again."
"Yes."
"What's it all been about, Sam? Why did it all happen? Sixty years.
Have we wasted our entire lives, to come to this spot?"
"No." I thought. There was time, now. "No, Jamie, we haven't.
We've been busy. We had things to do, you and I, didn't we? Things
that had to be done."
"Yes, that's true. I still do. I said they're all gone, but they
aren't, not really. There's still Anthony's son. Lives with his
mother's sister, but I see him all the time."
"Oh, Jamie." I pressed his arm. "What's his name?"
"Sam." I looked at him quizzically, and he giggled. "That's his
name. Sam is his name."
I stared at him.
"Anthony insisted. I told him our story, and he insisted. Anna was
furious."
I looked at the stone.
"Then - we have his blessing."
"Oh, yes, Sam. Oh yes."
I braced up. "Do you know, I'm a lord now? Lord Moss. I go to the
House, too. I speak. I keep busy."
"You beat me there. I'm just an MBE. Free legal work for charities."
I laughed. "Those kids in the train. They'd be surprised. Do you
suppose they remember us?"
"Why not? I remember. Every second."
I smiled at him. The spring sun shone in his hair.
"Jamie?"
"Yes?"
"Don't leave me. Stay with me."
Just like the last time, he giggled.
"Of course I will. Till the end of the line. Right to the end."
And arm-in-arm we left to start our life.
======================================================================